Impossible
by Neon Daisies
Summary: This story was written for everyone who's had to wait for a phone call that might change their lives forever. Spoilers through IM 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** if I owned Iron Man or anyone associated with it, I'd probably still write fanfic, but then it wouldn't be fanfic. It'd be canon. Lucky for the Iron Man 'verse I'm on the outside looking in. Credit Stan Lee, Universal, Marvel, and whoever else for intellectual property. Credit Jon Favreau, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, et al for bringing them to life.

**A/N:** Okay, I already know that some of you have read this. This is a story co-written between myself and 4persephone that she originally posted through her profile. However, during one of the times that this site was doing maintenance and upgrades, that file got corrupted – missing sections of text, strange formatting, etc. She deleted that story along with a few others until she had time to review and edit them. Needless to say, my 4persephone doesn't have a whole lot of free time. However, I have all our original files, and so am posting them under my profile.

For those of you who've never read these fics, please enjoy.

* * *

The day she kissed him was a day very much like any other.

The day she kissed him was the day she arrived to work early. He came up from the shop at six am, and found her already at work in her office with her computer in her lap. Well okay, she wasn't so much working as she was sitting and watching the sun rise, as if she were totally unaware of the multitude of emails that were sitting in her lap. He remembers it now because she was wearing a black, flowing skirt and a top that was more colorful than her norm at the time. Her shirt was new as far as he knew – something soft and lighter toned than she normally wore at the office. The jeweled green highlighted her eyes and left her complexion looking just a little pale.

She smiled at him as he walked through the door. "Good morning, Mr. Stark," she said to him softly when she saw him, and then she went back to her typing without any further comments or obligatory words.

He'd forced himself to leave her and go into the kitchen, but he hadn't been able to deny the prickles that ran up the back of his neck. That had been the beginning...like tremors looking for an epicenter.

On the day that she kissed him she failed to bring him his usual cup of 10 am coffee. He realized this at about 11:30 am when he started getting a headache and realized that he was getting caffeine deprivation jitters. He went upstairs looking for the coffee pot, only to find it empty, and Pepper nowhere to be seen. He went looking for her then, because he simply couldn't _not._ He found her standing out on his balcony about ten minutes later with her clipboard under her arm and a quiet, unmistakable look of fragility on her face.

That look stopped his heart, made it almost impossible to breathe. He pulled open the door and was out there beside her before he even consciously noted his change in position. "Pepper?" He asked the question carefully as he stopped eighteen inches away from her. It was closer than he normally ventured and he half expected her to give him a lecture on respecting other people's personal bubbles.

She just turned to face him, though, with patient eyes and lips quirked up in a smile he didn't quite understand. The delicateness that had been there only moments before disappeared in that heartbeat, to be replaced by a calmness that was almost a little eerie. "Ms Potts… I…Pepper?" He asks it almost as a question. He's not sure what he's asking, only that he needs to have some kind of clarification. He sighs, runs a hand back through his hair and finally settles on, "You're …something is…." He sighs. "Are you...are you okay?"

She looks at him a moment, and tilts her head. A small smile cracks her lips and then she's crossing to stand in front of him on well-soled feet. "Too soon to know," she says, and then she's leaning forward and pulling his head toward her own and kissing him like she's had the privilege for years. About a minute later, she finally pulls back. Her eyes search his face, and her smile is actually a little whimsical… "I need to run an errand for the rest of the afternoon. If I go, can you be trusted to go to your board meeting or am I going to have to yell at you for playing hooky tomorrow?"

He doesn't know what to say. Though he wants to say a thousand things. He wants to tell her he's confused and he's scared and she can't go and change the entire scope of the universe the way she just did for him.

But her face is calm and her eyes are gentle, and looking at her he knows that she needs him to nod. And so he does, and she reaches out and cups his face in reward. "I'll bring in donuts for breakfast tomorrow," she promises softly, and she steps back into the house.

He watches her go and tries to find language skills again.

Pepper leaves at 12:37. He knows the time exactly, because she heads out of the house through the garage and leaves him a plate with a cut up apple and a sandwich. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten to eat until the sweet-salty smell of chicken and cashew salad finally registers in his brain. "I'll see you tomorrow," Pepper tells him softly. "Though just to warn you, I might be a little bit late…I'll email you if I am."

He studies the red of her lips, the curve of her figure, traces the line of her hip with one hand, and is shocked when she doesn't protest. "Are you _okay_?" he asks again softly. The question makes his voice crack as she tilts her head a little and regards him thoughtfully.

He sees her pause for a moment. "It's too early to call. Tomorrow, Stark. We'll talk about it all tomorrow, I promise."

And then she just leaves, climbing into her Audi. She puts on her seat belt and backs out of her space. Her car makes its way up the graded ramp and into the sunshine, and he realizes he's ten seconds away from screaming. So he puts down his wrench, and he heads for the upstairs. "Jarvis, I want you to pull me up the last eight weeks of Pepper's schedule."

He doesn't know what he's looking for. He'll only know when he sees it. It takes an hour of looking before he finally catches it. In the last two weeks she's had no less than six scheduled out of office appointments with someone she has listed as D. Tanabe. "Jarvis." He taps the latest appointment with his right index finger. "Find this guy in her address book please, and get me a number."

It takes about thirty seconds for the AI to comply, and with a trembling hands he makes himself dial the number. The voice on the other end is female, calm and a little bit harried. "Hello, this is Beth. You've reached Metro Oncology."

The receiver falls from his hands and remains there long after the voice on the other end turns to a dial tone. All in all it's almost two hours before he begins processing anything again.

* * *

An e-mail comes in around nine o'clock that night. Pepper is sorry but she can't see making it into work tomorrow. Nothing to worry about, she's quick to reassure; she's just nauseous and a little tired. Nothing a little sleep won't fix. She promises to bring donuts on Thursday. That's enough to get him off the floor and into his bedroom. He walks into the bathroom, looks in the mirror and tries to tell himself not to panic.

Tony doesn't actually go to sleep that night. Neither does he stay up all night working on some project. He's just...awake. Waiting. He actually makes it to six in the morning before he can't take being alone with his own mind anymore.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and this is threatening to leave him helpless.

He gets ready, dragging out his shower and the rest of his morning routine because he knows that he's going over to Pepper's house uninvited, and she's going to have every right to kick him out, and he's not really looking forward to admitting that he checked up on her behind her back. But _not_ going to her never even occurs to him as an option. All that he knows is that if Pepper's in trouble – if she's sick, or... – then his only real choice is to be at her side.

He tells Jarvis where he's going and he locks up the laboratory. It's a measure of his AI's social protocols, that Jarvis doesn't once try and stop him.

"Might I suggest flowers, sir...or something of the like? It is customary for people to bring well wishes to their friends and sickened colleagues."

He pauses as he unlocks the door, and then mutters softly, "She's not my friend." And then he slides into the seat.

"As you say, sir. It's also customary for males of the species to bring gifts of some sort to their mates," Jarvis says just as Tony reaches to close the door. The statement stays with him all the way to the turnpike, and every time he tries to deny the truth of what was implied, his head starts pounding enough to make him want to scream. He isn't prepared for this, isn't sure he wants it. But some things apparently, have nothing to do with what he wants. He pulls off about two blocks from her house, buys soup from a deli and then goes looking for flowers. The only kind he can find though, are at a gas station, and they're already fading.

He leaves them behind, refusing to wonder why he can't bring himself to bring anything near to her that's on its way to being dead.

He pulls up in front of her house, and suddenly it's hard to get out of the car. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. While that usually doesn't bother him, it does now. Pepper deserves better than some half-assed attempt at being cared for.

Tony considers banging his head against the steering wheel, like it'll help jumpstart his brain, but ultimately decides against it. Instead he pulls out his cell phone and hits speed dial. It takes longer than usual for Pepper to answer her phone, and in an attack of nerves Tony almost hangs up. But this isn't middle school, and Pepper's phone has caller ID besides, so he stays on the line. He's composing his message in his head when Pepper picks up.

"Tony?" She sounds groggy and...pale. "Didn't you get my e-mail?"

"Do you prefer chicken soup or beef with barley?" He looks at the two cups beside him.

The woman on the other end pauses a moment, and then answers softly. "I prefer the chicken, actually."

He nods and picks up the cup, finally stirred out of this terrible lack of movement. "I'll be over there shortly. Make sure you've hidden any underwear that you've got lying around somewhere out of sight."

"I'm not in the habit of leaving dirty laundry in my kitchen." Tony can hear fabric rustling. "When are you going to be here?" She yawns into the phone but she doesn't try and stop him from coming over though, which he decides is probably a relief.

"About twenty seconds," he informs her bluntly, climbing up the stairs and rapping firmly on her front door. The woman on the other end makes a squeak of outright surprise, but about twenty seconds later she does meet him in the entry. She's pale and using the door as a prop, and though it's nearly ten in the morning she's still dressed in pajamas which he knows because she'd just tossed her robe on and not actually closed it. In all the years he's known her, Tony's never seen Pepper less than perfectly coifed by eight in the morning at the latest. Today she looks like she's barely dragged herself out of bed.

She's wearing silk...of a light mint green. Short Capri length pants and a not too clingy top with an edge of lace at the top. It's the most feminine thing he's ever seen, and would have left him almost gaping in lust if he hadn't also seen the horrific bruise covering the length of her entire right arm

"Tony..." She hasn't seemed to notice that he's distracted by her bruise. "I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm not up to guests right now."

"I'm not a guest," he informs her bluntly. "What happened to your arm?"

He sees her blink, and then she sighs a little. For a full minute and a half she glares like she's trying to find a way to kick him out of her house, but then she caves. "It's called an infiltration – basically the vein they tried to put the IV in first was so weak it exploded." Se turns from the door then, and motions for him to follow. "So what kind of chicken soup are we talking...with or without noodles?"

She leads him through the entry into a room like nothing that he's ever imagined seeing.

Pepper's house is old, one of those turn of the century ones with big porches and two stories and floors that creak. Tony had been expecting dark wood paneling and just as dark carpets and furniture.

What he sees is golden oak floors and pale blue walls. One wall is floor to ceiling windows, another floor to ceiling books and all the furniture in between is in shades of sand and mocha and all of it overstuffed. There's plants in the corners – not silk but live, which he knows because one or two are drooping like she hasn't been home enough to get around to watering everything. The mantle above the fireplace is anchored with vases at either side and instead of flowers each holds a beta fish. In between are framed pictures of people he assumes are family.

Houses like hers shouldn't be light and airy. They're supposed to be stately and convey great age. But Pepper has turned her house into a haven wrapped in a shell of proper decorum. Kind of like the woman herself.

He whistles under his breath. "Remind me to have you do my next round of redecorating."

Pepper smiles just a little, and then she simply rolls her eyes. "You never answered my question...noodles or rice." She exits out one door at leads him into her kitchen. "Are you hungry, by the way? I don't have donuts, but I think that I've got half of a homemade cherry pie if you want it."

The kitchen is much like the living room, cool neutral colors along with brighter splashes of green. The one free wall not covered with cookware has large photographs unlike anything he's ever seen.

One is a beachscape at sunset, with a surfer stomach down on their surf board, paddling in the direction of the camera. The other is a long stretch of sand with a pier in the background. There's an old man and a baby both walking barefoot down the beach.

"Interesting shots...a new artist?" He'd never imagined she'd be a collector of photography.

Pepper only raises an eyebrow. "No. A professional didn't take them. Only me." She looks...shy...when he glances at her with surprise. "We all need hobbies, Tony." The smile she tries to give him is weak, and once again he's struck by how pale and out of order she is.

He hands her the soup. "Chicken noodle. Why don't you get back off your feet? You're looking pretty pale and I'd prefer not to have to pick you up off the floor."

"And they say chivalry is dead," she mutters as she accepts the soup and pulls a spoon out of a nearby drawer. Then she shuffles back into the living room and sits down on the couch. It's so overstuffed and covered in throw pillows that it supports her without any effort on her part. "What are you doing here, Tony? Not that I don't appreciate the soup, but I know you have other places to be today."

"When do you get back the results of your biopsy?" His voice is quiet, but he asks because he can't not ask, as much easier as that option might have been.

Pepper swallows, and then sets her soup down on the nearby table. "How long did it take you to figure that out?"

"I pillaged your calendar. The same name kept coming up. It's not like you safety lock your rolodex." He forces himself to sit in the chair beside her, instead of crowding in next to her on the couch like his instincts are screaming for him to do. "You didn't answer my question. Do you already know the results, or will it be a few days before you get the pathology reports back?"

"They thought they might know by this evening. Sometime tomorrow at the latest. They were looking for a second opinion, just to be extra, extra safe."

He nods a little. "Eat your soup." He can't take his eyes off the pale line of skin between her pajamas and her bathrobe. He's never considered a woman's shoulders all that sexy before, but this woman's skin is as pale as fresh milk and dotted with an abundance of freckles.

Pepper obeys, flipping the lid off the soup he'd brought. "I don't suppose this is a good time to tell you that it's rude to be snooping?"

He tilts his head and shrugs a little, regarding her with more than a little irony in his eyes. "Then you shouldn't have kissed me like you were saying goodbye. It's not exactly the best way to stay under the radar. I mean yes, I'm a little dense, but given enough information I generally sort things out."

"Yesterday was...yesterday," she says carefully. "I was having a hard time, but I'm sorry if –"

"I'm not angry that you did it, Pepper. I'm angry you did it _then_." He raises a hand to massage the tightening muscles of his eyebrows. "It was not the way I would have chosen to figure out I've fallen in love with an impossible woman again."

"Impossible?" There's a touch of irritation in her voice, but then Pepper kind of shrinks back into the couch. "Again?"

"People like you are not supposed to exist. You're too much of a unreachable benchmark for those of us actually bound by our humanity." The statement should have sounded sarcastic, but it didn't, and Tony's face is serious. "And yes – again. Senior year. Amanda Parker was a fellow classmate when I was attending MIT. She was a brilliant scholar and a die hard idealist. Joined the peace corps just to piss me off I think…" He sighs and rubs his eyebrow. "She died in Guatemala six months later. Apparently some local drug cartels weren't as fond of her as I was." He shrugs. "As I said...impossible, Pepper. Impossible not to want and impossible to actually be."

Pepper doesn't know what to say to that, or even if she should say anything. But Tony's quiet and seems to be focused on something other than her room and the present. "I just...needed to," she eventually says.

He nods a little. "I understand. But don't ask me to pretend it didn't happen." He shrugs. "I don't need to be in charge of the next twenty-four hours, Pepper. I just need to be able to _see you_...I promise to stay out of your way, just don't ask me to leave."

"Tony..." She's about to ask why he thinks she's going ask that, but then she remembers. "Oh." And the anxiety she'd been able to put out of her mind since coming home yesterday starts to creep back in.

And then she is shaking and then she is _crying_, albeit without a sound. Because six weeks is far too long for anyone to bear this much alone. Even if alone is the only way she's ever known how to be.

After a moment or so, the couch cushions shift and she can feel Tony lay a careful hand on her right shoulder, like he thinks she might not want his company. For a genius he can be an idiot, and to prove it she curls into his side and wraps her arms around his waist as she cries out the tension that's been riding her. By the time it's done she's not just curled up at his side, but halfway draped in his lap as she clutches him desperately. And he smells like home, which is ridiculous because this _is_ home, and yet he's everything even these walls of sanctuary can never really be. And before she's consciously realized it she's unbuttoning his shirt. Because she wants...no she _needs_ skin contact. Needs to be part of humanity. Because he's right, in some horrible ways she _is_ an impossible human. And she'd give her right arm – her whole life in fact – to be _anything_ else.

"Pepper... Pepper, stop." Tony carefully wraps his hands around hers even as she struggles to get to the next button. "What are you doing?" God, this is what he's wanted for months now, but not in this way. Not while she's blinded by an uncertain future and acting without any show of reason. He wants something real, something that is not going to be a source of stress to both of them after they get the results later today or sometime tomorrow morning.

Pepper's desperate though, in an all too human way. "Please, I _need_." She actually pleads, though she's not even sure what it is that she's asking for. "My god, why doesn't anything _touch_ me? Am I that…?" She can't find the words. "What's the _matter_ with me?" And she cries because she hurts and because she's so _tired_ of it all. She's tired of the distance and the isolation she never asked for. Because being independent is not the same as being free. And the artifice is killing her. Eviscerating what remains of her world slowly but surely.

And so she tries again, pulling her hands back. The words are hard to form, but she forces them out. "I just want to touch you," she whispers. "I'm too miserable for sex right now, but I'm sick of feeling alone in my own skin." She presses her face into his chest. "I know it's a lot to ask under the circumstance, but would you please at least just hold me?"

And that Tony can handle. That is something else entirely. "Where's your bedroom?" he whispers after a moment, earning a look of confusion that makes him smile tenderly. "This couch is comfortable Pepper, but that doesn't make it big. Show me where we can both really stretch out, so you can get some sleep."

She doesn't give an answer because she's uncertain of what she wants. It's just that her, and him, in a bedroom...and these kinds of things have consequences. Yesterday she'd kissed him in one of her moments of peace, when her mind had essentially been on autopilot to save her the drama of counting down the minutes until her biopsy. And he'd looked so lost and so miserable that she'd kissed him because there'd been no question that it was the right thing to do, that it'd been what he'd needed and she wanted. There'd been no before, and no after, and no outside world.

But now she is lost in the possibilities of afters and confused about what she wanted and what he needed and whether it would be good for them later. She doesn't know how to redraw the lines, especially since she was the one to bring their walls down. And she's just so tired and exhausted that even what she wants seems a fingerbreadth out of reach.

"I..." She tries to put this into words, but then apparently the man whose lap she's in seems to read her expression completely, because he shifts her the last few inches until she's spread across his lap.

"You said you wanted skin," he informs her gently, and then he rises from the couch with her in his arms. "I'm willing to give you as much as you can handle, assuming you know the offer is strictly PG. Just no making fun of my cartoon themed boxers, Potts. They're an old gag gift from Rhodey."

She just holds onto him and tries to stay calm. "I don't know what I'm doing, Tony," she warns him. "I'm not even _aware_ of what I'm doing half the time."

He shrugs a little as he carries her down the hall. "It'll be okay. I'm better at punting than you are anyway." And then he's found the door of her room, stepping out of his shoes before they even get to the bed frame. He lays her carefully down on one side and goes to work on his clothing. Less than a minute later he's in bare feet and boxers, which, in accordance to his early warning, actually have Eeyore on their back. She smiles a little at the sight, and he wags a finger in her face. "One word about the donkey, Potts, and I'm cutting your salary." Then he drops into bed and lays down on his side, holding out one arm in what is clear invitation. "Grab a blanket if you'd like to wrap yourself up, though as I said, PG only."

Pepper looks at him like she's let something dangerous into her house, though she knows the danger isn't physical. She trusts Tony to keep his word...and to keep it even after today if she needs him to. But she just doesn't know....

'Screw it.' Who cares? Either she has all the time in the world or she doesn't, but that has nothing to do with the fact that kissing him yesterday was the right thing for her to do for him, and holding her today is the right them for him to do for her. Whether she has just today or unlimited tomorrows, this is right, and she wants it. So she inches across the bed until she can tuck herself against him, her head pillowed on his arm. Her hands creep over his skin until one arm is draped around his waist and the other around his neck. Then she sighs deeply and relaxes into his heat. Tony responds by throwing his upper leg over the curve of her calf. His fingers find the juncture of skull and neck and press down firmly, massaging the overly tight flesh. She gasps a little as muscles she didn't even know were knotted start to relax under the pressure of his hand.

His voice is quiet. "I'm not hurting you am I? I can't see where you're bandaged..." She responds by pulling back her robe just enough to show him the piece of white fabric that's doting her hip.

"Bone marrow check...as an extra precaution. The lump they found needed further examination...they sent it to an outside facility." The skin she's shown him is red and swollen from the sheer size of the needle. It doesn't hurt much right now though, just a dull throb of pain. She presses her nose into his shoulder, shivers a little at the sheer relief of skin on skin. She tries to remember the last time she allowed herself the luxury, and finds she can't recall a face much less any kind of name.

And it's Tony, this time. Tony, who snooped in her daily planner, and probably didn't get a wink of sleep all night, and who brought her soup because that's what you do when your friends get sick.

Tony who she can always trust with the truth even if she doesn't trust how he'll react to it. And so she pulls down her shirt front, just the tiniest bit. It's enough to show him the other piece of gauze that is on her left breast. "It might be breast cancer," she whispers, so quietly she can barely hear herself. "Maybe not, and if it is we caught it amazingly early...but the doctors aren't taking any chances."

"They _shouldn't_," is his firm reply as he shifts his leg off of hers, apparently leery of irritating her hip. She wants to ask him to put it back, but she can't find the words.

"My mother died of the same when I was eleven." Just saying the words made something in her ache. "Given the family history I guess I should have coughed up the five hundred dollar fee and done the genetic screening like my friend told me to."

"I assume they're doing the screening now?" Tony asks as he continues his massage. Somehow his hands manage to bring more pleasure than pain, despite her quivering shoulder muscles.

She's crying again she realizes. Not sobs as much as a slow steady trickle down her face. "As part of the bloodwork, yes, I imagine. But most health care plans as a rule don't cover it as preventive care. And those that do...well if you take the test and it comes back positive, they can use it as a reason to increase your monthly fees." She snorts a little. "Want to hear something funny? An ER doctor found this in a routine history and physical when we were checked out after Obadiah blew up the plant. Stane trying to kill me may have actually saved my _life_."

"Stane failing to kill you saved your life." Tony wraps himself around her because this is all a lot to handle. "I'm not sure I can really let myself think about that, Pepper."

She understands completely, but it doesn't stop the flow of words. "This is partly my own fault, I hadn't been checking myself as carefully as I should have been. It's just been so busy lately...and it's not like anybody else ever gets the chance." She chokes, a little awkwardly, "I mean, God, how pathetic is my life? The closest I've come to sex in six years is a more than normally conscientious instructing doctor who asked me to let his student do a full breast exam." She shakes her head, "All I can say is thank the lord for pugnacious interns and teaching hospitals."

"I hope that intern was female," Tony mutters, trying to squash any sort of imagery her words bring up. This is neither the time or the place for either reaction – jealousy or lust.

"One of each. But the guy could have been our grandfather's age. He'd lost his own daughter to undiagnosed cancer about three years before." She shifts forward, a little closer, unable to release a groan at the sheer bliss of his skin. Tony smells phenomenal; he smells like life. "He only came in to consult _after_ his female student found the lump."

"Okay." Tony tightens his grip without her having to ask him. It's a little bewildering how well he can read her body language – how he seems to know when she's okay and when she's starting to come apart. "How are you feeling, other than tired and lonely?"

"Sore," she admits. "And still a little overly emotional. That anesthetic they gave me yesterday didn't just make me numb, it left me disconnected and foggy." Or that was what she'd told herself as a means of self comfort the last three times something absolutely random had made her burst into tears.

"Is it slowly getting better at least?" he asks, though he doesn't want to hear her say it isn't. He's still… Well, thinking would be bad now. Thinking would lead to worrying, and worrying to the same panic that had shut him down the day before.

He _needs_ Pepper to be well. He's beginning to realize that all he really needs is Pepper. The effective way she carries out her job is secondary to the way her job brings her in contact with his life. Just being here in this place is a strange kind of comfort that almost doesn't bear contemplation. He shouldn't be this thrilled for a chance to just hold her, not at this point, and not under such horrendous circumstances.

But it doesn't change the fact that some part of him sees this entire position as more right than any other one he'd ever been in.

"Depends on what you mean...how long have I been getting sick from anesthetic?" She shrugs. "To be honest, I've never had to have it before, so this is the first time. The doctor says it's normal though...lots of people with my hair and skin tones end up pretty sick...something about our body chemistry." She rubs her nose almost unawaredly against the skin of his chest. He shudders and cups the back of her head. The urge to kiss her is strong, but it's also...new. He doesn't want to kiss her as prelude to sex, but as reassurance, as connection, a way to tell her that he's _here_ in a way that his words and his actions haven't. The instinct to step in and support her, hold her up or even carry her if necessary, is hard to ignore. And because of Jarvis's parting remark, he's beginning to wonder if he even should.

There is something...right...in the concept of having a mate. It seems to imply more than sex – though that's certainly implied. But it also carries a connotation of exclusivity, solidarity...unity. Their lives are almost unified as it is. He wonders how seamless it might be to complete the process. Would they even remember what it was like before? He already can't remember what he'd ever done without Pepper.

Can she remember what she'd done before coming to work for him?

The woman in his arms though, seems unaware of his thoughts. She's silent and breathing deeply, and her hands are on his skin. They don't stay in any one spot all that long, he realizes, though he suspects the gentle mapping of his chest and back is less deliberate than it is an act she's undertaking unconsciously. Something about what she'd said earlier started sinking in. Had is really been _six years_ since she'd touched anyone intimately? The thoughts makes him shudder in sympathetic empathy. He can't imagine that kind of self segregation. If it has been him in her place… Well maybe she's stronger than he is, because the skin starvation would have probably driven him crazy.

"What do you think of?" she asks him out of nowhere, though her voice does nothing to

dispel the sense of intimacy settling over them. "When you look in the mirror and see this, what do you think of?" Her hand slides over his reactor, then comes back down to settle on its' surface. "Is it...does it hurt to look at it, or has it become part of you?"

"A little of both," he admits after a moment. "It's like a scar and a lesson all in one."

She raises her head to look at him in slight confusion, and he shrugs himself. "Call it a walking calling card for my past behavior. Every time it seems like it might be easier to revert to my old behavior patterns, all I have to do now is look in the mirror and get a visual reminder of where exactly it got me."

His fingers weave through her hair, play with the ends. She rests her head against a pillow and tries to look at the reactor objectively. "It's not...disfiguring," she finally says. "I mean, it _is_ because of how it came to be there, but at the same time... You're so preoccupied by and so much a part of your machines that it almost makes sense. For you." Her hand pulls back and brushes over the patch of gauze on her breast. She looks... thoughtful. Like she had on the balcony the day before.

He's not sure what to say. He's never been in these waters. His own hand is itching to reach out and touch the bandage himself, but he's not sure he can do so and not be completely out of line. He settles instead for consciously slipping his hand under her robe and placing a warm hand on the skin just above her bandaged hip. Pepper continues speaking, almost dreamily. "You know, I remember how I couldn't stop staring when Mom came home...she looked so different and yet exactly the same." He doesn't think she's with him anymore, doesn't think she's really even talking to him. Instead she's thinking words he can't bring himself to, like chemotherapy or even mastectomy. "Of course that was over twenty years ago. Doctors know more now. And they're pretty good at reconstructive surgery." Her arm is still around his back, and her hand is rubbing the patch of skin between his shoulder blades in slow drags.

Then her lips quirk and she shakes herself a little. When she looks at him again she's no longer focused on the past. "Why are you here, Tony? And I know it wasn't because you had an undeniable urge to buy me soup." The question is direct, and entirely normal. She might as well be standing across from him at the mansion asking why he'd missed yet another of his rescheduled meetings.

"Jarvis called me your mate today." The words come out in a rush. "Considering the panic that keeled me over when I first called Dr. Tanabe's number, I can't deny that he's right." Tony shrugs then a little. "When your mate is threatened, you protect them. Maybe I can't change whatever you test results are going to be, but I can make sure that you don't have to wait and worry _alone_..."

She nods at that, quiet but accepting. In return he pulls her hand carefully away from where it's still resting against her chest and gently opens it so that he can press a kiss into her palm. "What were you thinking? Yesterday when you kissed me?" he asks against her skin.

"I wasn't thinking anything at all," she admits softly. "I was just letting myself stop and _be_." Because she hadn't known so much...so much had been beyond her _control, _and she'd been hardly able to think about it. Until the moment when he's stood beside her and asked how she was with traces of terror on his face, she'd been stuck. And then she'd suddenly _known_ that if she was going to get through whatever was coming alive, it would only be because she'd started _living_ her life.

Something inside Tony, some barrier, falls at her words. That the woman she lets herself be is someone who would kiss him, would let herself be touched by him, is affirming. He brushes his lips against the pulse in her wrist, and with terrible gentleness over the bruise marring the delicate skin of her forearm. He can't say that he's displeased when Pepper responds, though he promised he wasn't going to push her. But the leg she slides against his and the way her pulse jumps a little under his touch is just the quiet reaction he needs to eventually pull back.

Tony wants to cherish her in a way that their relationship has never allowed. And that means not rushing her when she might be vulnerable. It also means keeping his promise that he'd keep things PG.

"Tony, what would you do if I asked you to kiss me?" The question is so soft he can barely make it out, and the woman in his arms is starting to shake. She looks at him with tired eyes. "Because I'm just sick of it all....so _weary_ of keeping up the guise."

"Well, I suppose it would depend on why you were asking," he replies just as softly. "Because now that I realize what I've been missing, I'm not sure I can kiss a woman who doesn't love me as I love her." He cups her face and she turns her head to kiss his palm in mirror of his own actions. As something inside of him quivers he hopes she doesn't call his bluff; he would make love to her and never regret it. If she needs his body before she can give her heart, then he'd willingly love her until she could trust him with herself. And he'd be the first to admit that she has so many good reasons _not _to trust him.

The woman in his arms goes still, and for a heart rending second he's afraid she's going to pull away. After her reaction up on the roof at the benefit and before the press conference, he knows very well he's a fool to expect anything more than a gentle rebuttal. When Pepper finally raises her head though, she manages to surprise him. Her nose wrinkles up in amused disbelief. "Tony, if you don't know by now that I'm already in love with you, I'm not really sure I can find a better way to say it. I mean for God sake, I _cried_ when you came back, and jokes aside, you have to know I don't show that kind of vulnerability unless I can't stop it." The words are quiet and a little bit ironic. His face radiates a kind of shock and she sighs a little as she waits for his reply. She didn't know why it had to come across as a surprise, short of the likely but not particularly heartwarming thought that he didn't read her very well.

This had always been their disconnect she acknowledged: he tended to read everything she did as disapproval, when in truth it had been as much the opposite on more than one occasion. She'd loved him for _years_ without his knowledge, until the practice of being silent and covering all traces of the emotion had become habit. And now even when they both need more, she doesn't know how to step out of her role as the master of subtlety. Words, real words are just so _hard_... They've never been nearly enough.

Pepper watches as the shock fades from his face, leaving something…clean…behind. It's as if her words have washed away something heavy he'd been carrying, or cleansed some kind of film that had been growing between them. What's left behind is masculine, and tender, with eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles at her and only at her. "Well, then that makes it another matter entirely, doesn't it, Pepper?" The smile she offers back is shy but genuine. "Do you want me to kiss you, Pepper?"

She chuckles. "If didn't, would I have asked?" Okay the question had been a bit... metaphorical maybe. But the man was a genius, and perfectly capable of taking a well worded hint.

"Probably not, but you're not usually so vague when telling me to do something," he teases as he pulls her closer. With one arm around her waist he cups her face with the other hand. Then he returns the kiss she gave him the day before. It's soft and undemanding, and more of a comfort than anything else.

"You can lead a horse to water..." she whispers, when they finally pull apart several seconds later. "But Tony, sometimes, as much as it may surprise you, I really prefer to _not_ use the riding crop."

"Really? Because I'm always intrigued when you do." He grins as he nuzzles her cheek. She can feel his chest expanding against hers, as if her scent is as pleasing to him as his is to her.

"Tony, stop telling me about your kinks for now. Just go back to kissing me." She doesn't wait for him to initiate this time, but instead reaches up to cup his neck as her lips cover his.

This kiss is longer deeper, and involves a lot more tongue, and in between them both she can feel the swelling heat.

Tony luxuriates in the heat between them until he starts to feel need. It's a subtle shift between enjoyment of the moment and anticipation of the near future, but he recognizes it and pulls back from the kiss. His arms remain just as tight around her though, because he has no intention of letting go. It's just..." He sighs and rubs her back. "I _promised_ you, Pepper. I promised a PG rating, and you said you were still feeling groggy and sick."

She groans a little against his chest. Because he's right and she knows it, but she doesn't want to care. For once she just wants to be selfish and impulsive. To be as "possible" as he is on a regular basis.

But she can't push this now, and not just because he won't let her jump into something like this impulsively. This isn't just about respecting her own limits, it's also about respecting Tony's. She knows he's a better man than he gives himself credit for, and she knows the need to do things in an honorable way is becoming more and more important to him. She can't ask him to be something different than he should be even if it means another round of fighting off the hunger in exchange for the lingering promise she could sense in his skin.

Besides, he deserves a partner who's in control, who's not high strung and groggy.

Tony shakes his head as he sees the thoughts play across her face. "Get some sleep, Pepper. Give the meds time to work out of your system." He kisses her forehead then sighs deeply. "A nap sounds good, actually. Later maybe...when we're both in a better place. We can revisit this topic again."

She doesn't think that she can sleep this wound up, but she'll try. It shouldn't be too much to ask that she put his needs first, not if she honestly loves him.

They have time, she acknowledges to herself. Even if they aren't strictly lovers yet, the world has still changed. They both made what amounts to a promise, and now they just need to wait till the other's in the place they can act on it fully and without regret.

So Pepper backs down and nods in acceptance. But she's only human, so she also tries to accept her limits. "I think I need to roll to my other side...take the pressure off my incision." Of course the price for that would be a throbbing hip. There'd been a reason she'd slept on her back last night. But she'd take the pain, if it meant she got to keep his warmth and the feel of his breathing pressed up close against her back.

"Of course, Pepper." Tony allows her to roll over without ever actually taking his hands off her. Then he shifts carefully behind her so that he's spooned against her. His hand rests on her stomach, and his thumb brushes back and forth idly, without purpose. Then he sighs and moves his hand just under the hem of her top and rests his fingers against skin. Again he sighs, but he sounds content. She closes her eyes and waits for his breathing to change. Waits for the slumber she knows is lurking to claim him. It doesn't take long. Between his own obsessions and his panic over the state of her health, he hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours. She has less luck of her own, but then that's hardly surprising considering the state of her world.


	2. Chapter 2

After perhaps an hour she finally slips from the bed. She notices she has a bit more control over her body as she walks into the bathroom than she did when Tony had showed up on her doorstep, and her stomach is faintly interested in the concept of soup. But eating is the last thing on her mind as she looks at herself in the mirror. The woman looking back is pale and tired. But that's not unusual, she's seen that before. What is unusual is the fact that for the first time in her life, she knows that her uncle was right. She does favor her mother. She can't help turning side on to the mirror, can't help studying her body with almost a detached eye. And then she turns away with a shudder and puts everything but the anticipation of a shower right out of her head.

Panic won't help her, a fit of crying will only wake Tony up and make him uselessly protective. It's better to focus on what is happening now until she gets the call. After she hangs up, she can react accordingly. In the meantime, she has an entire box of photographs she hasn't looked through in years and a new pair of photo albums to file them in.

The shower feels good...unknotting the tension from her shoulders. The water stings a little against her skin, and yet she actually welcomes the sensation. In about fifteen minutes she's washed herself clean and managed to haphazardly wrap a towel turban style around her head. When she gets into the kitchen she eats the soup, then makes some salad and a plain turkey sandwich. She caries the whole pile of food out into the living room and finds the box and photo albums. Three hours later she's finished most of the first album and she can hear Tony coming down the hallway. She looks up from her place on the couch and smiles as he collapses at the other end. He's barefoot and his button-up shirt is undone past his arc reactor. His hair is tousled and he yawns before focusing his eyes on her.

"You said something about cherry pie earlier?"

She smiles. "In the kitchen on the counter." Then she goes back to laying out the jumbled pictures in some semblance of order, hoping to make another layout in her head before she seals them in place beneath the plastic sheeting. She can hear cabinets and drawers opening and shutting, followed by the sound of her refrigerator being raided. When Tony comes back with what seems like half of what remained of the pie and a huge glass of milk she's not terribly surprised. He sits down more carefully this time, choosing to move closer to her so he can watch as he eats.

"How long you been at this?" he asks, his eyes taking in the way she's spread out about two feet in all directions. He understands the chaos, but wonders how long it takes her to create it. If this were his garage, a mess this size would have only taken minutes.

"Two hours at least." It's not exactly a lie.

Tony shoots her a look that says he doesn't entirely believe her, but then his eyes stray to the floor and he breaks into a broad grin. "You know, Pepper, while I've often imagined you naked, this was not exactly what I was referring to." He holds up a photograph of a red headed baby no older than two. Pepper had been holding a fork in her hand, and she had a pot on her head.

"Eat your pie," she tells him as she tugs the picture out his hand.

He reaches down again and snags another. "Is this why you always wear your hair so long? 'Cause I've got to tell you, 'Annie,' I can almost see you singing 'Tomorrow' when I look at this. And you certainly have the temperament to railroad rich, eccentric billionaires."

"See, if you were eating your pie right now, your mouth would be full." But she doesn't sound upset and she doesn't try to take the picture away. "Just make sure you put that back where you found it, please."

He carefully puts it on the floor. "Ah come on, Pepper, I'm only due. I don't want to know how many embarrassing pictures that you've managed to find of _me_ over the years of me."

"Believe it or not, Tony, the only embarrassing pictures of you that I've found are after you turned twenty one and started drinking in public." She glances at him. "You generate enough work to keep me from idly poking through your things, Tony. And if I were looking for the naked baby pictures, I'd want time to linger."

He smirks a little. "You'll never find them. I was quite thorough in creating a hiding place for incriminating childhood material." He takes a bite of pie and sighs in pure bliss, then points at one on the ground with a particular candor. "I'm assuming that's your mom and dad?" he says a little softly, pointing to a pale blonde with a willowy figure and a red haired man in his twenties. The woman was standing in front of the man, adjusting his tie even as they both turned toward the picture. His uniform was a little faded but even Pepper could make out the clear emblem of the United States Marines.

"Yeah..." She smiles and picks the photo up. "They loved each other so much."

"I didn't know your dad was in the service." His voice is curious.

She nods. "Twenty-three years. He died when I was seventeen. He loved the life almost as much as he loved my mother. Of course it meant we moved around a lot, but you learn to be flexible after you relocate enough times. Also you learn to be a bit more open minded when you live in places all over the country."

"Yeah?" Other than the year he spent traveling after his parent's death, Tony's never lived anywhere but Malibu. He'd always felt bound to this place. It was one of the reasons he bought it. There was something about this particular plot of land that made him feel anchored. It was a little hard to explain.

"Japan was my favorite post. I loved all the old shrines. It's also why I'm so addicted to Sushi. Not that I ever eat it much." She shrugs a little. "Dad was in special ops. He was killed during a recovery extraction of somebody in Asia…though they refused to ever tell me exactly where. My uncle convinced me to set up a marker for him next to Mom, though we never got a body back. I like to think that's exactly where he's happiest. Even if I rarely get to visit them." Tony knows how it feels, knows how after awhile the memories become bittersweet, cherished but rarely pulled out because it's too hard to set them aside again.

"Where are they?" he asks softly as he cuts another bite of pie. He doesn't want to pry into her life, but she's accompanied him on a few excursions to the cemetery where his parents are buried so he thinks she'll understand.

"A little country cemetery in southern Rhode Island. It's where my dad grew up and where my uncle Thomas lived. I still have a house there...well a farm actually, though it hasn't been operational in years, and I should probably sell it." She shrugs a little and laughs. "I mean let's face it, I may be flexible but I can't imagine I'll ever reach a point in my life where I want to settle outside a city and devote my life to raising milk cows."

He laughs and just looks at her. "Never thought about setting up a summer house? Or using it as your retreat when you retire and decide to become a full-time photographer?"

"Full time? Not likely. As I said it's a _hobby_. I enjoy monkeying with different lighting and angles, yes, but I'd probably get really sick of it if I had to do it everyday." She picks up another picture and hands it over. "This was my Uncle Thomas...he and Dad owned the farm." She laughs aloud. "Their grandparents came from Ireland, and I swear he cultivated the accent just to get himself laid. I'll say this much though, he defined the concept of Celtic blarney."

"Is that where you learned how to shut down someone before they got too deep in the BS?" He examines the picture respectfully before handing it back.

"He certainly helped me cut my teeth. Though in truth I learned a lot of my coping skills from some of my less pleasant ex-boyfriends." She smirks. "I'm quite sure one of them is still spending most of his free time trying to figure out where his limited edition copy of Playboy actually is."

"You're evil." His eyes are full of admiration though, for knowing where to hit where it would hurt. "Remind to lock up my collectables later."

"What makes you think that they're all still there?" The smile she shoots back is simply nothing but _evil._

He starts making a quick and frantic inventory somewhere in his head. He's gotten through the comic books – some of which are arguably worth more and are far more rare than the Playboys – when Pepper starts giggling. "Evil and cruel," he tells her, though he offers her a bite of pie. "Forget locking anything up, just remind me not to piss you off." She accepts the bite from his fork, then steals another from his plate with her fingers. The result of course is a red sticky mess that she proceeds to clean off with her tongue and a far too innocent grin. "Feeling better?" he asks as he tries to keep his mind on the straight and narrow.

She weaves her tongue a little further between her fingers, delicately lapping the web of skin between forefinger and thumb, "Yeah...clear headed and calm. I think the drugs they gave me yesterday have all worn off. I'm a little sore at the biopsy sites but other than that...?" She shrugs and goes back to sorting through photographs again.

Tony contains a groan, then finishes his pie before she can offer to help. "Where did all of these come from?" he asks to distract both of them. "Is this one those projects that just sit around until you find the time to do them, or is it a recent interest?"

"I've been sorting through the house these last few weeks. Getting to little projects I've just kept putting off. This was one of them, and I guess your commenting on my photos in the other room made me decide to tackle this particular chore on the list."

Something in her tone makes him freeze and sends shudders through him. There is an implication in her tone that she accepts that she might be running out of time.

Actually, the implication is that she believes she's _probably_ running out of time.

"What other chores have you tackled?" he asks, striving for the same light tone he's been using, because he doesn't want to put her on her guard or anything.

"The usual spring cleaning. Sorting through my closets. I think last week I outfitted an entire rack's worth of business clothes at the local Goodwill. I cleaned out my fridge and mailed out a few presents I'd set aside for old friends from college... That sort of thing. Oh and I finally caved and updated my will, because it's been six years, and unless I choose a beneficiary like the art program I did, most of my money and art collection would have probably ended up being seized by the federal government if something happened." She continues on relentlessly, unaware of the pressure that's building in his brain. "Just that kind of stuff, you know...responsibilities that nobody else but me can or _should_ be asked to deal with."

Tony sets down his empty plate, then brushes the photographs on the couch onto the floor. He drags her into his lap and kisses her just to shut up all the stupid things he wants to say.

He wants to ask if she thought to leave anything for him or if he's going to have to bribe someone in order to have some small piece of her for himself. He wants to yell at her for what he sees as giving up hope, because she'd held out hope longer for him than she has for herself. He wants to assure her she isn't going to die, that her fate is still abstract and far in the future.

He doesn't say any of those things. But when he breaks the kiss, the question, and the anger, and the assurance all still leak through somehow as he says, "Pepper, if anything happens to you – now or fifty years from now – _I'll_ be the one to take care of anything you leave undone." And that actually _shocks_ her. As much as it pisses him off. She's looking at him like he's some kind of foreigner from a previously unknown country.

"Tony, I didn't...." The words die off. She wants to tell him she's not prepared to die. But the truth is she _is._ Because it's her life and her history, and she's been only partially tethered here for years. It is one thing to know you are needed to hold someone's life together, and it's another thing entirely to be the one in need of the tethering. And if she _does_ have cancer....

Well Pepper knows that she's not her mother.

The thoughts catch in the back of her throat and steal the air from her chest. And just like that she's eleven again. Back in a hospital room with a woman who'd been her whole world, even as she slowly faded. "So tired, sweetie. Mama's just so _tired_." It had been one of the last things her mom had ever said...before her end. The words had been apologetic but resigned. An acknowledgement that sometimes you failed even when you did your best. Her mother had fought so _hard_, through surgery and chemotherapy. She'd fought like a lion because of what she'd been leaving behind: a child who needed her desperately, a man who had loved her completely.

She'd fought and she'd _failed_, and she'd had far, far more to give her strength than Pepper did if she was about to face the same battle.

And if that test came back negative... Some things were simply destiny.

"No." Tony takes her face in his hands and shakes it a little. "Pepper, no. You don't get to stop fighting before battle's even been sounded." And she starts to cry then, because there's nothing else to say. Nothing that can possibly make either of them feel any better. It's her fault she got this way. It's her own damn fault. Tony just wraps her in his arms and holds her. He bottles his own fear and everything that stems from it and allows her to face hers. "Shh, Pepper. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here for you. If you need to stop being strong that's alright, but don't resign yourself to dying. _Please_."

And then the fury hits her, but it's aimed at him. At a weakness she's allowed through her own passive acceptance. "I'm _not_ impossible, do you _understand me_?" she finally manages to speak through gritted teeth. "Impossible is exactly what's going to kill me, if things stay as they are." And then she's wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him like there's no tomorrow. She's kissing him as the alternative to forgetting how to _breathe_.

He lets her kiss him because he feels so damn guilty for that "impossible" remark that he'll hopefully be living down for the rest of his life. He kisses her back because he needs this too, this reassurance that she's alive and he's alive and they need each other. When she pushes at his shoulders and presses him back, he willingly goes because he would give her anything.

She's moving slow and a little clumsily, but not because of pain. She's just very, very aware of every delicate spot that's dotting her body. "_I love you_," she murmurs into his hair, and she tries to straddle his lap and sink into his chest. But her hip twinges at the stretching motion, causing her to end up half sprawled across his lap. "This is so completely and utterly _not fair_," she all but whines as his hands rub against her back. She's finally trying to do this...living on instinct for once in her life. And the universe... The universe is a complete and total _bitch_ that is making a mockery of her honest intent to seduce him. Tony groans and bounces his head ineffectively off the couch cushions. Then his hands tighten around her waist and he holds her down on him when she would have rolled off in disgust and embarrassment.

"Your hip?" he asks breathlessly.

She nods. "I'm about two thirds as flexible as I regularly would be." She tries again to straddle his hips, but the muscles just can't take that degree of stretch without spasming uncontrollably. "The universe hates me. Absolutely fucking _hates_ me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He opens his eyes to look up at her. "Is not being on top a deal breaker? Or are you open to a different position?"

She snorts at that. "I'm on top of you because you're too heavy to crawl _under_...well that and the couch is a hell of a lot more comfortable than my hardwood floor." She uses her hands to brace as she slides herself backward, wincing a little as she comes to rest on the low lying coffee table. For some reason, Tony looks amused as he stands and then pulls her to her feet.

"That's not quite what I meant," he admits as his hands glide over her bottom, then slide lower to cup the back of her thighs. "There's more than deviations of the missionary position, Pepper." He turns her around then presses his hips tight to her bottom. "Though if you're not comfortable with it..." He forces his hands away from her body though he doesn't step back.

Her response is to snort and lean forward and kiss him full on again. "Have I ever struck you as a person who can't handle damn near _anything_ you throw at me?"

"People have limits when it comes to sex, Pepper," he mutters against her lips. "Especially when it comes to new partners. I mean, if you don't want to find yourself face down on your bed, you do have one good hip. That leg would go around my waist just fine."

The only response that he gets is a low groan. "_Pick_, Stark…I'll choose which way we do it next time. But I'm through with thinking." And then she starts peeling her robe off her shoulders. When Tony laughs it sounds a little strained. Then he pulls her close and kisses her while slowly walking her backwards towards her bedroom. "Are you okay?" Some small, still functioning part of her brain peeks out from behind her Id.

"Just regretting my choice in pants this morning," he assures her as he bumps his hips into the softness of her belly. "Something I will remedy when we're in your room."

"Thank _god_," is her candid reply. "Because I only currently have one bag of ice in my freezer. If we'd had to cool this off there'd be _none_ left for you." When Tony kisses her again they lose some momentum and end up bumping into the wall. He curses, then swings her up into his arms and a few seconds later they're in her room and he sets her down carefully on the edge of her bed. For a moment there's something hot and dangerous in his eyes, but he banks it, and there is Tony Stark standing in front of her with a look she recognizes. Anticipation and...planning.

That look makes her shudder, from her head to her toes because she knows Anthony Stark, probably better than he knows himself. And what that looks means, in most contexts, is that he's going to be lost in a project for at least a week. What that look means in this context...? Well she's definitely in trouble.

"I love this house," he informs her bluntly. "Love the air and the light and the way it feels ten times bigger than it is. And this room...." He smirks, "I think I like it most of all." He looks around him then, with a gleam in his eyes. "Do you know what this room tells me about you, Pepper?" He gestures to the multitude of pillows, the fuzzy blanket and at the brightly colored green silk sheets. "It tells me you've got a very, very _heightened _sense of touch..."

He sinks one hand into her hair and carefully pulls her head back. As the tips of his fingers trail down her exposed neck, his lips hover above hers. He doesn't kiss her, but she can feel every inhalation and exhalation that passes his lips. "I'm not going to rush," he warns her as he hooks a finger in the strap of her pajama top and slowly drags it down her arm. "Because we have now, and I don't feel like wasting it." His fingers come back up, skim across her chest, dip into the shallow cleavage at the v-neck of her top. She shudders hard as his fingers contact skin, and his nostrils flare at that new information.

"God...I barely have to touch you...barely have to breathe." He traces the edge of the lace. "Tell me something, Pepper...could I have made you come? If I had been just a little more free with my hands when we danced, could I have made you come?"

"I don't know..." Her words are a squeak. "We were in public...that kind of takes the edge off." It's not _entirely_ true, but she'll be damned if she reveals such a blatant disadvantage.

"And yet you let me get you alone on the roof?" That definitely warranted more attention later. One thing was certain, he was sure that she was never, _ever_ going to get to wear that dress in public unless they were together. While he'd always considered himself to be progressive, she was playing havoc with his sense of possessive jealousy.

"Your skin is so soft," he marvels, and his head dips down to suck at the soft ridge of her clavicle. She smells like scented soap and shampoo, and her flesh is warm and silky under his tongue. He can feel her trembling and he smiles to himself because he knows it's because of what he's doing to her and for no other reason. After one last kiss he steps back slightly and reaches for the hem of her top. Her hands follow, and try to help, but he just hangs on and shakes his head. "Am I going to have to make you sit on your hands?" he teases. "Or are you going to let me do this?"

"Two person activity," she murmurs a little rebelliously, and then he laughs when she actually does shift to sit on her hands. "Six plus _years_, Stark. Please show some compassion for my desire to maintain a little of my sanity."

"If you maintain any sanity at all, I'm not doing my job." He sets his palms against her bare sides so that the removal of her top becomes a caress. His eyes stay on hers, even after he's unveiled her breasts. He seems more interested in watching her reaction to him than anything else. "Hey, I need your hands for a minute," he reminds her as he nears her shoulders. She scowls at him through her growing lust but is obedient, and he glides his hands up her arms to the wrists. Her pajamas fall on the bed behind her and he links their fingers as he looks down at the skin he's bared. "Giving and receiving is also a two person activity," he tells her in a voice gone husky. "Especially if the woman doing the receiving has to fight her own impatience to give. But just because you're not actively touching me, Pepper, doesn't mean that you're not giving me a gift as well."

She seems to consider this a moment, before she nods slightly. "Point taken...but this sentiment will eventually come back to haunt you. I have limits."

And then to his utter amusement she actually deliberately sits on her hands yet _again_. "You might have limits _now_..." It's a promise that's also a little threatening. But then he's kissing his way between her breasts, slowly and with great delight. She is _perfect_. All of her, from her hair to the toes he can feel curling against his shins. And it's not the form of her body that makes her perfect, it's the honesty of her response that seduces him.

His hands gently cup her, tenderly squeeze just enough to imply his strength against her softness. But he is so very careful because doesn't want to risk hurting her. His lips ghost over the bandage on her left breast, acknowledging its existence but not lingering. "I love you," he whispers against her. He looks up at her through his eyelashes as his lips brush against her nipple. "I want to hear you," is the request/demand he makes of her before he takes her into his mouth. Sound spills from her lips – a high, desperate moan as he suckles. Her back arches and her hips twitch forward in a perfect arc, all without her consent.

He smiles around her breast, nipping at it carefully. "That's it Virginia, let it out." Then he pulls back from what he's doing, just enough to blow a stream of air across the nipple, and she writhes as his hand starts tracing the skin of her sides. "I was wrong, Pepper. I was so, so unbelievably, unforgivably _wrong_. Impossible people don't move like you do, and they certainly don't groan in a way that's anywhere near this greedy." He takes the other breast in his hand, squeezing it quite deliberately more firmly. "So what do you like, Pepper...light or firm? What _really_ turns you on?"

"Firm," she whispers. "And...and..." He raises an eyebrow and lightens his touch until she thinks she might be imagining it. "And I like watching you," she finally gets out. "Your eyes are..." She shakes her head, trying to force the words to come together. "I like knowing that you like watching me."

He circles her nipple with just the lightest brush of his fingernails. Watches her pupils dilate. "You like firm better or you like it because it's faster and thus less intense?" He bends again to suck the breast that he's holding, this time letting his hand sink below the waist of her silk capris. There's nothing below them, and he groans with the knowledge. "My Lord...you were built as the perfect answer. Do you have any clue how much you tempt me?" If anything, her skin is _softer_ here and he can't help but run his fingers back and forth over the same two inch patch over and over.

"Lie back," he tells her as he abandons her breast for her lips. "Just...yesss...." His hands brace her until her back meets the mattress. As he slowly pulls the drawstring of her pants loose he sinks into her mouth, tasting as deeply as he can of her. When he feels her hands pulling at his shirt he doesn't try to stop her because he wants it off too, wants to be able to press as much of his skin as possible against hers. She accepts his bulk against her torso with an almost delirious relief, though he's very careful not to place his full weight on any of her injuries. The gap left in between is enough for her to be enacting a desperate, rocking thrust and retreat against his now need soaked hand.

"Tell me what else you need, Pepper. Do you need more?" He straightens a third finger and shudders as her body accepts it, though she's already so tight. "Do you need a new sensation?" He flutters the pad of this thumb against her clit, and feels his own body rock with lust as she gasps and holds onto him so tightly he can feel her fingernails stabbing into him. "Harder? Deeper? Do you want my tongue in your mouth? On your breast? Against your core?" The pace of her thrusts changes, becoming slower but harder, her hips circling as if looking for some needed touch. "Tell me, Pepper."

"_Need you in me_," are the words she finally gets out. "Want this to be for _both of us_...

not just me." But the words themselves are just too much, for a body held on a precipice too long already. "Oh...oh my god...." And then she is coming. And it is agony and relief all rolled up into one.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I tried. _I really tried_. I wanted..." She manages to gasp out after a moment. She wants to sit up or roll away but lacks the necessary muscle control.

Tony though just leans forward and kisses her. "For what? Who says you can't have that plus this on it's own?" He twitches his hand inside her, rolling his knuckles toward the hard knot of nerves. "That was _one_, Pepper. It doesn't make it us _finished_..." His head falls again to her breast. He teases her with the hard, fast suckling she requested earlier before he moves down her body. More of his own hunger is showing now, his hands are greedier. When he pulls his fingers away from her she groans in dismay, but he just hooks them into the waistband of her pants. He stares at her and waits until her eyes crack open before he slowly pulls them down her legs.

He cups her right foot in his hands, digs his thumbs into the instep and grins as she presses back against him. "I have been staring at your legs for years," he tells her – in case she missed it – while he massages the ball of her foot. Then he sets it against the edge of the bed and kisses her ankle. "Your legs, and your high heels, and the area right above your legs..." He kisses the inside of her ankle. "I think I've actually dreamed about fucking you while your heels are still on. Except in the dream they were more like spurs." His fingers probe the muscles of her calf and he grins as she tenses.

"Tony," she murmurs in a voice he's never heard. "I am about ten seconds away from pinning you to this damn bed. Now will you please stop _talking_ about fucking me and _fuck me already_!"

The words are punctuated by a firmly delivered smack to the side of his head.

"Hmmm...and here I thought we'd taken the edge off." He kisses her knee, rubs his rough cheek against the inside of her thigh. "God, Pepper...you smell delicious." And he leans forward and quickly drags his tongue up her entrance before she can protest. Her reaction is instantaneous; she lets out a surprised shriek and her hands tangle in his hair before he can do more than swirl around her clit a few times. "Oh _shit_...." She's trembling. "Tony...!"

He pries her hands loose and steps back far enough that he's safe from her while he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. She's watching him with anticipation out of pleasure-drugged eyes as he steps out of his pants. She whimpers in frustration when he reaches for a pillow instead of for her, but he makes his intent clear as he lifts her hips high enough to slip the pillow beneath them. And then he's placing the foot attached to her good hip back on the edge of the bed. She reaches for him like she wants to touch his erection, but he knows his control is challenged enough without that, so he places a palm on her belly to hold her still as he works the head of himself inside of her....and stops. It's worth resisting the screaming need to thrust that's ringing in the back of his head to see her reaction.

"I'm going to _kill_ you," she says in that voice again. And he knows, beyond all doubt, that she absolutely means it.

"Fitting I suppose," he replies with a single thrust. "I mean, if anyone deserves the privilege, it would most definitely be you." He pulls out, inch by painstaking inch, circles his hips and then bottoms out again.

Pepper's still pinned by her belly, unable to move. It doesn't stop her from griping the sheets on either side of her with enough force to _tear_. "Come to think of it, killing may be too _nice_...I'm going to make you _suffer_ instead."

He pulls out, circles again. Then smirks. "You just _try_ to bring it on." He already has the upper hand in their dealings, and he plans on keeping it for a good long time. This time when he thrusts back in, he moves his hand, allowing her to buck up into him. Their gasps combine; a little bit more of his control slips when she wraps her leg around his waist and arches into him as he retreats, maintaining the contact.

"Pepper…" His hands sink into the mattress to either side of her head as he finally stops teasing. His rhythm is hard and fast and punctuated by the way her hips sometimes leap up and grind against him.

And she is so hot, and so tight, and so _wet_ that he can't regret anything except it's taken them so long to get to this point. So he reaches between them and starts mercilessly circling her clit in time with his gradually intensify thrusts. When orgasm hits, it hits them nearly together. She thinks he may have broken first by perhaps a second, but she can't tell the difference. The uncontrollable jerking of his hips seems to be precisely the necessary impulse she needs to throw her over the edge. When it's all over they're both breathing in short bursts, and his legs are shaking so badly he can barely stay upright. "Are. you. all right?" she manages to gasp out. Now she's limp and boneless as she sprawls on her back.

"No." He shakes his head as he slowly leaves her, drawing soft moans from them both. Then he collapses onto the bed next to her. "I am fucking _amazing_. _You_ are amazing." He kisses her damp brow with all the energy he can find...which isn't much.

"You look ready to pass out. Lay down." And this time the tone is all too familiar and he just wants to laugh. Pepper giving orders at work is precisely two tone levels above Pepper giving orders in far more pleasant places.

That fact, he suspects, is going to get him in mammoth trouble the next time she has a cold at the office.

"How's your hip?" He helps her move into the center of the bed so she's no longer hanging half off of it.

"It's twinging occasionally. I don't really care." She looks at him with what can only be described as mirth in her eyes. "The next time I espouse the wonders of celibacy as a lifestyle, I want you to show a little mercy and just _kill me_."

"Then you really wouldn't be able to have sex," he teases. "Can I just confine you to my bed until you come to your senses?"

She snorts. "If you think you can out stubborn me."

"What makes you think I want to?" He pulls her close and settles his head against her shoulder. "Are you going to be insulted if I pass out?"

"I'm going to be insulted if you don't" she informs him severely after a moment. "Because I'm going to in about another two minutes."

He just smiles and turns his head enough to press a kiss into her shoulder. "Love you," he murmurs as he drags a displaced sheet up to cover them.

She doesn't say it back. But only, he realizes after a moment, because she's already unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony's in the other room making her dinner. Something involving pasta, but he's banned her from the kitchen, so she doesn't know specifics. He wants it to be a "surprise."

Pepper finds that idea to be a little scary. He's shooed her off to go work on her photo albums some more, though she suspects it's because he wants to her to take him through them in order. His life is already an open book to her for the most part. Anyone who's interested can go look up old newspapers or magazine articles. From his birth announcement to his last press conference, it's all there. Her history is another story.

She knows he's curious, but she's almost a little afraid of the sheer lack of life he's going to find waiting outside her work.

Pepper checks the clock again – 4:45. Early for dinner, or it would be if either of them had gotten a decent meal today or yesterday. Or if they hadn't spent five hours in her bed. Once she'd woken up, she'd taken advantage of Tony's own catnap to take advantage of _him._

To say it had been an enjoyable excursion would be an understatement for both of them. Right now they're soaking in the chance to just be close every chance they get. She still doesn't know if that will be Tony's par for the course, or if they'll go back to their more normally restrained dynamic when her results finally come in. Either way she'll take the comfort offered as long as she can, because it's not harming anyone.

"Tony, are you sure you don't need any help?" She carefully closes the first book and sets it aside. It's complete. Photos from her parents' first date through her tenth birthday are common and full of fun. There's fewer pictures after that and Pepper finds herself reluctant to start on the second album. It almost seems a waste of time. Her father had never taken to photography the same as her mother. All she had were school photos and the rare occasional pictures her uncle took whenever he'd visited. She wishes now her father hadn't been overseas during her junior high graduation, and she wishes that she herself had gotten into photography before her sophomore year in high school. Perhaps if she'd had more time it would have ended up looking less like the whole of her family had been buried right along with her mother.

Tony calls out from the other room, his voice amused but his tone firm nonetheless. "Stay out of the kitchen, Potts. Too many cooks definitely screw up the metaphorical broth."

She snorts and goes to stand against the kitchen doorframe. "Yes well, I would be less worried about that if I'd ever seen you actually cook."

He rolls his eyes. "Pepper, cooking is more or less a branch of chemistry. Give me a break." Tony sounds amused as he runs a wet cloth along the counter. She's surprised that he's cleaning up after himself even as she's touched that he respects her space enough to so.  
She just stands there and takes in the almost bizarre experience of watching her employer putter around barefoot in her house. 'Ah, but he's not that anymore. He's just Tony.' Only he'd never been that, right from the very beginning. It was one of those things that had irritated her so much about the man; he'd always defied simple explanation. Come to think of it, that term defined their entire relationship, from the day she'd first invaded his front office. She remembers a lots of things about that day, not the least was being majorly pissed. But she also remembers quite well how completely he'd baffled her with his now customary behavior.

She'd also been highly annoyed by the way he'd basically railroaded her into her position. Which was deeply ironic since she's been the one who nine times out of ten has been doing the railroading ever since.

"You're supposed to be relaxing and taking your weight off that hip." Tony disappears behind the open refrigerator door, then reappears with an armload of veggies. "I'm not going to set your kitchen on fire, so just go sit down and let me finish."

"A bone marrow test is not major surgery, Stark. I'm not under any kind of ambulatory restrictions. It's good to be up and around on my feet."

Tony raises his eyebrow, but never turns away from the stove. "Pepper, if you need a reminder about your limited mobility, I'm sure I can amply demonstrate. Come to think of it, I already _did_ less than an hour ago."

The flush that rises to Pepper's hairline is hot and complete. She might have woken him up, but he'd rallied on her quickly. And she was never gong to be able to look at lying on her stomach in quite the same way again.

To judge by the look on his face he not only knew exactly that, but he's unashamed of gloating. "You know, I'm not sure that I like you all that much anymore."

Her employer barks out a single burst of laughter. "Potts, I guarantee that you_ like _me just fine. Now, if you're going to insist on hovering, come test this for me." He takes a lid off a saucepan. The smells that emerge are both fragrant and sweet, which Pepper finds amazing considering how little she currently has to work with in her kitchen. Her stomach rumbles loudly, and Tony bursts into laughter. "Come here, love." He stirs the pot, then carefully pulls the bottom of the spoon against the edge of pot so he won't drip anything on her spotless floors.

The easy nickname catches her a little off guard, but his face is so open she literally can't refuse. She steps carefully over to where he's standing and bends down just enough to get a preliminary taste. The sauce is rich – a mixture of white wine, tomato and cream, and there's something else as well, though she can't quite identify the flavor specifically. "Okay...garlic, parsley, a little bit of fennel. That almost tastes like basil, but I know that I used the last of it last week..."

Tony snorts. "I haven't been in here _that_ long, Pepper. And chemistry or not, I can accept the limits of my cooking knowledge. You had a jar of spaghetti sauce in your pantry I used for starter." He stirs the sauce again before putting the lid back on.

She chuckles a little. "I may not have any pasta. It's been awhile since I restocked my fridge."

"Yeah I kind of noticed." Tony shoots her a scolding glance. "Fast food is not exactly a recipe for staying healthy."

"Says the man who wanted a cheeseburger after three months of eating only god knows what..." Her voice is amused as she steps away from the stove.

"That was completely different." Tony turns the heat on under a pot of water and holds up a slightly dusty – but unopened – bag of elbow macaroni. "It's not spaghetti, but it'll suit for tonight."

"That or I can toast up some of the artisan bread that's still in my freezer in the basement. You know, like Italian dunkers, sort of, but without the extra ten pounds of caramelized cheese?"

"The cheese is the best_ part_, Potts, though technically it doesn't caramelize since cheese really doesn't actually have much sugar in it." He kisses her forehead gently. "Why don't you watch this while I go get the bread? It'll go with our salad." She nods and takes over stirring the sauce. By the time he gets back upstairs she's busy setting the table, the sauce it set out and she's chopping out the bad bits of a pretty questionable looking tomato. Tony blinks at her a moment, then sighs in exasperation, "What, are you just incapable of following orders?"

Pepper shrugs as she lifts the cutting board and scrapes the good tomato on top of the lettuce. "In my own house? Yes. What do you want me to get out for dressing?"

Tony just shakes his head and tries not to fuss too much. "Blue cheese, if you have it." He holds up the bread. "How do you want to defrost this?"

"Put it in the microwave for a couple of minutes and then slice it thin and stick it under the broiler. It's better that way – you know, when it's moderately warm and the edges are all nice and crunchy." Her hip is finally starting to throb with all the self-enforced movement, and when she eases into her usual chair it's with a quiet sigh of relief. Tony shoots her a knowing look as he slips the now sliced bread under the broiler. "Ice pack or heat – do you have a preference for pain relief?"

'Your mouth,' she thinks, though she knows if she says it it'll be awhile before she gets to eat. And she's _hungry_. "Heat. There's a heating pad in my bathroom cabinet." Still, she has to wonder what Tony would say if she admitted she considers him his own distinct class of pain reliever.

He pulls out the bread when it's done and then drains the water of the noodles, before reaching over to the counter and taking one of her hand towels. She watches a little confused as he wets it under the faucet and then sets it down in the turnstile on the microwave.

"What are you doing?" She wrinkles her nose in honest confusion a few seconds later as he's pulling the dampened cloth out.

"Heating pads need cords, and the last thing we need is a trip hazard. Wet heat works better with surface skin bruising, besides cloth conforms better to skin." And then he walks over, brushing her hair off her neck and kissing her there, as his hand slips under the simple shirt she's wearing and molds the steaming fabric into place as a kind of half erotic form of live demonstration. Pepper slides her hand over his and holds him there long enough for her to turn her head and brush her lips against his. She feels Tony's smile, and then he returns the favor before straightening up. "Let me go get the bread and we can eat."

He retrieves the rest of the food with no other stops, setting it down on the table before starting in on filling his own plate. "What do you want to do the rest of the day?" he asks her after his third or forth bite.

He doesn't glance over at the phone as he asks but she knows that's what he's thinking. "The call will ring through to my BlackBerry like it always does. I guess the question is what do _we_ want to do? Other than looking at pictures..."

"I don't know. What do domesticated men do when there's not a garage handy?" He grins at her as he dunks a piece of bread in the sauce she'd set aside.

"There's a beach not far away. Not particularly well maintained, but also not under-developed. Or there's a decent set of antique shops about a mile away by car. You never know what you'll find in any of them from day to day."

"Really? Because I was thinking of something along the lines of 'you sitting down.'" His lips twitch. "Not that a walk on the beach with you doesn't sound delightful. But we're not getting your hip all aggravated again."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, then I suggest we just take a drive or something. Let's just get out of the house for at least a couple hours."

Tony eats several more bites, watching her carefully. She's having trouble reading exactly what's behind his eyes, though she's pretty sure it's not condemning. Instead he seems to be gauging her mood, trying to assess her limits.

"I'm sick of sitting here waiting," she admits to him bluntly. "I'm tempted to just go into the office. That's what I would have done if you hadn't come over."

The look he gives her is a little sad and a little bit ironic. "You honestly were just going to try and carry on like everything was normal?"

She shrugs a little. "I would have given it my best shot. Though I don't put much stock in my succeeding given the way that we parted."

'A nice way of skirting around the fact that she just up and kissed me.' "And if we hadn't kissed out on the balcony? Would you have told me that you were waiting?" He's having nightmare images of her up in the office while he's downstairs working on the suit or one of his cars as if nothing in the world has cause or need to change.

She shrugs. "I don't know, Tony. Some days I just handle reality better than I do on others." He doesn't like that answer, and she can see it in the wrinkles on his forehead.

She'd apologize for it but there's no point – after all, without that kiss they would still be exactly what they had always been. The distance that separated the professional and the real at the office was thicker in some spots than others. They'd sniped at each other for years about virtually everything, but witty banter meant very little compared to the walls they'd built up around their more tender histories.

"It bothers me, you know, to see how off balance we were." The admission is quiet, and she can see the pain in his eyes. "I can tell you this, I would have been _pissed_ if I found out that you hid being sick past the initial diagnosis phase."

In truth he was _already_ pissed that she'd hid it beyond the day they'd found the lump, but it did no good to either of them to say that. What was done was done, and all he cares about now is not repeating history.

Pepper just gives him a lopsided grin, and reaches across the table to touch the back of his hand. Her smile says that she's sorry she'd hurt him, but that she's not sure she would make another choice if given the chance to do things over. It's a difficult situation, and she's only just starting to come to terms with it herself. She doesn't know how she could have helped him through this when she's not quite sure how she's getting through it herself.

Tony looks back at her for a long time before he turns his hand and squeezes her hand. He's one to talk, he supposes. He still had trouble talking to anyone about what had happened to him during his three months in Afghanistan, much less to her, who ought to be the easiest person for him to talk to.

"A drive huh?" he asks, squeezing her hand a little before letting her go and returning to his meal. "Seems I remember there being a little mom and pop ice cream stand down the highway near Costa Mesa. It's a nice evening for a drive, and I brought one of the convertibles."

"Or we could take my car," Pepper offers, just a little too nonchalantly.

"Pepper, no offence – because your car is very nice – but I think my car is a little nicer."

She grins. "I'm talking about _my_ car Tony...not the one I use for work."

"What kind of car are you referring to?" he asks, and by the twinkle in is eye, she knows he's finally registering her meaning.

She smirked. "Morgan Plus 4, 1977."

Tony blinks...and then squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at one ear like he thinks he's misheard or something. "You have a _Morgan_?" he asks almost breathlessly.

She reaches to the key holder by the door and passes him a set of high tech garage keys. "It was my father's – bought the year I was born. Look and touch only...you are _not_ going to shoplift the keys." Tony pouts but she shakes a finger at him. "I mean it, Stark. Casey's very sensitive about these matters and I don't get to drive her enough as it is."

She thinks he might actually whimper a little as he reaches for the keys. Then he reaches for her and kisses her deeply and passionately before pulling back. "If I hadn't loved you before, I would now." Then he practically runs to the garage. She rolls her eyes and goes to find her shoes, slipping into flat heeled sandals before she follows him around to the side door of the garage. "Oh my _god_..." is all that Tony manages to say, as he stands in the doorway and stares in pure, lustful _amazement_. "What are the chances we can have sex in the back seat of this thing?" he asks absently as he strokes a gentle hand over the curve of one fender.

She watches her car. Takes in the way that he's actually panting. It's geeky enough that for a moment at least, she considers saying yes. "I'll leave the subject open for later discussion, assuming you don't get freaked out by its procreative history..."

He raises an eyebrow so she rolls her eyes and elaborates. "In '77 my parents were barely speaking after four years of on and off dating. Then Dad won this car in a contest at work in late August and drove it over to apologize. I was born in the middle of April. I trust you can do the math and figure out the connection yourself."

Tony turns back the vehicle, walks around it slowly as if to contemplate it from every angle. "You know, Potts, it might be worth the risk." He only sounds half joking. "You were conceived in a sports car. You do realize this means you were pretty much_ fated _to me..."

She rolls her eyes. "I was fated to my parents. Now let's lock this place back up and get a move on. I figure in another hour or so, we can stop downtown for ice cream."

"Pepper, I'm considering moving into your house," he informs her as she pushes him out of the garage.

She snorts as she closes the door behind him, locking it firmly and switching on the alarm. "Ask me again when my birth control's guaranteed to be _working_ and we'll discuss the possibility of you visiting on weekends..."

Tony freezes and turns around to face her. "When your birth control is _working_?"

She pauses as the words pass her lips, as she finally grasps their meaning and stands there, mouth gaping. "Oh _crap_." She just stares at him in shock. "I...I've been pumped full of drugs the last two weeks, Tony...the sort that I'm assuming are unkind to babies and birth control alike."

Tony stares at her for a moment, just a little frozen in shock because somehow the concept of "birth control" hadn't even once occurred to him before now. Though the real kicker is he is still having trouble relating it to the concept of "being with Pepper" all on its own.

He hadn't even thought to _ask_, which simply stated, just isn't _normal. _

He's not normally this careless. As in, he hasn't been this careless since a very tense week when he was nineteen. And it was a lesson he'd taken to heart. He knew himself, knew just how much responsibility he was willing to take for his own life, much less anyone else's...

However, he swallows hard as he's blindsided by the mental image of Pepper round, glowing, and proud of herself for her maternal state. He _wants _that. And he wants to be the one to make her that way. That knowledge nearly takes his breath away. However, this is without question a matter to be discussed at a later date. There's still one question too many waiting for an answer.

"First stop, pharmacy," he murmurs as he watches her. "I think we've been risky enough for one day." He knows for a fact that he's not going to be able to stop touching her. Under these circumstances a pack of Trojans is the only logical next step.

Pepper only stands there looking shell shocked, like a woman who has managed to burst several connections somewhere deep in her brain.

He's not sure if it's the lack of birth control or the shock of what they'd completely overlooked. "Pepper." Tony grips her shoulders and gently shakes her. "We're not worrying about this right now because there's no point. We won't even be able to get an answer for days still, so we're not going to worry about it until then. Understood?"

He's a little bit concerned when the woman in front of him starts shaking. He is more concerned when a low chuckle breaks free in her chest and she starts to howl...tears of uncontained amusement leaking from her eyes.

"Oh god...somebody _shoot _me. I'm a living_ clich__é_. I'm one of those women who wind up on Dr Phil."

"No you're not. You're the woman I love so much it apparently turns my brain off." Tony wraps his arms around her and just holds her. "Com'on, Pepper. Shh..." He rubs his hand up and down her back in an effort to calm her.

It doesn't help much, she's still giggling uncontrollably. "Tony, being one does _not _rule out the other. I mean I might have gotten knocked up while waiting to find out if I have _cancer_?" Belly laughs ripple through the both of them and force her to sit down on her front step. "Come on Stark: it's hilarious. _I_ managed _that_? I mean honestly? _Me_?"

"Actually, I think _we_ managed that to be more specific." He crouches down in front of her, and searches her face with concerned eyes. She meets his gaze dead on, though she's got her hand still covering her mouth. Her eyes are bright, but not with tears. All he sees is amusement.

"You're _weird_, you know that?"

It makes her laugh even harder.

Tony just rests his head in her lap and sighs. "I'm just going to freak out for a minute if it's alright with you." There's just been too many life-altering revelations in the last twenty-four hours.

She responds by stroking his hair as she tries to settle herself down. "Go ahead, knock yourself out."

He smiles to himself and wraps his arms around her waist in return. "Just give me five minutes, and then we'll pack up _my _car and take a drive down the coast."

Pepper shakes her head. "Actually Stark, I think I need to pee. After that? Oh what the hell, we can take _my_ car. Consider it my one time, hysteria induced apology."

"Do I get to drive?" The question is muffled by her lap, but it sounds like he already knows what the answer is.

"If I'm still giggling like the _Mad Hatter_? Kind of, yeah. I'm not thinking it's such a good idea to let me drive under those conditions." But she threads her fingers through his hair and he stays where he is in contentment until he can feel her calm down. Then he turns his head and looks up at her.

"I love you, Virginia Potts."

Her smile is gentle. "Yeah, I know. Was kind of wondering if you'd ever figure it out." She doesn't mimic the words back, at least right in this moment, but he can hear them nonetheless, and see them in the way she wrinkles her nose. It's an _old_ sensation for her, he realizes. Newly passionate yes, but at its core something so _common_ to her that it simply coats her like her skin.

"You have to be the most patient woman in the world." Tony's grateful for Jarvis's comment about mates that morning, otherwise he might still be clueless. Even now, after he'd already admitted that Pepper is his perfect mate, he's realizing there's a difference between seeing that someone is perfect for you and loving them.

"I just have lots of practice." She bends down and lightly kisses him.

And this is Pepper loving him, he realizes after a moment. This is Pepper loving him whether she's straightening his tie or kicking his ass. Pepper loving him is her giving him just as much shit as he deals out, and always staying one step ahead of him. Pepper loving him is apparently as much about the firm grip she keeps on his life as it is about the way she's stroking the back of his head during this moment in time. He wonders now, how he missed that. It should have been so very obvious.

"I need to buy Jarvis a steak," he murmurs when he releases her lips. He knows that over the past years he's given her absolutely _no_ reason to love him, and a lot of reasons why she shouldn't. Even if all the women were lumped together in one category, the "shouldn'ts" outweighed the "shoulds".

But he's not going to argue with her, or try to convince her that he's not worth it, because he's not that stupid. Instead he's going to find any way he can to cement her love so that she never wakes up one day and wonders what the hell she's done. And he's going to start with a trip to the beach to prove that when they set everything else aside, they're just a man and a woman who want nothing more than to be together.

"Are you sure you don't want to take my car? We can drive it when you're feeling better." He stands up and offers her his hand to help her to her feet.

"As I said Stark, one time apology offer. I strongly suggest that you get while the getting is good."


	4. Chapter 4

Twenty minutes later they're doing exactly that. He's driving along the coast with her in the passenger seat beside him. Her hair, which has been down all morning – is now pulled back in a sloppy ponytail she's fastened with a hair tie from her glove compartment. He'd pouted about her securing it when she'd first tied it back, but all she'd done was raise an eyebrow and ask him if he liked eating hair with his ice cream.

Smart man that he is, he'd laughed and reached over with the hand not clutching the steering wheel to help her hold the bundled bun steady until the colorful elastic was twisted into place.

"So how come you've never admitted to loving classic cars before?" His voice isn't accusing just a little bit curious. "I mean, I would have helped you do the maintenance on this baby for free."

Which was why she hadn't done it, Pepper acknowledges to herself. Because the idea of that somehow had just been so completely and utterly intimate it that it had made her shiver. The Morgan had been her father's baby, and before he'd died no one but he and Pepper's uncle had ever been allowed to work under the hood.

Besides Casey had been her and her mother's name for the vehicle. Her father had called it something else _entirely_.

At twelve she had failed to see any source of humor at all in his regular habit of picking his daughter Ginny up from school in a car he'd always called Virginia.

"You're blushing," Tony observes from beside her. And Pepper doesn't bother to deny it. She doesn't need the proof that she'd find in a mirror. But she's also not going to tell Tony that she wasn't going to let him do the work on her Morgan because there'd been something a little illicit about letting him maintain 'her' engine, even if it was just metaphorical.

"You never answered my question," Tony says again softly. "Why hide the fact you liked old cars? It would have been another thing we had in common..."

"I don't mind old cars, Tony, but Casey is special. And to show you her was to explain all her history. You would never have let me live it down. You would have ribbed me mercilessly."

"Pepper, I already tease you pretty mercilessly. And I don't see that changing any time in the near future...though the mode may change a little." His hand caresses her knee for a too-brief moment before he reaches for the gear shift again.

She sighs and shrugs. "My Dad didn't call this car 'Casey,' Tony. She was named after me." She smiles as she leans back against the passenger seat. "God, it's good to be out in the sunshine. To just soak it up. Some days I think I'm a vampire, as little as I get the chance to see it with the hours we keep."

"Maybe we should talk about implementing a midday siesta," Tony says, half serious. "I mean, taking a two hour break in the middle of the day probably won't affect our working hours anyway. You're at my house until eight or nine at night as it is, and just think about what we could do with those two hours." He waggles his eyebrows at her. "Swim, surf, work on our tans..."

"That or we could act like normal people and at least take a break around five. That might be a better time to get in the water, less UV exposure I mean."

"You really like to surf?" Tony asks after a moment, as if he's a little disappointed she didn't take the bait he provided. She smiles a little at the thought. After all she can't let him flirt with her too easily, or it will lose it's appeal. So she settles for answering his question.

"I used to _live_ in the water as a teenager." Pepper smiles. "It drove Dad and my uncle absolutely crazy – they said the beach bum crowd was going to permanently destroy my vocabulary. They were always paranoid about the influences I was exposed to."

"Mmm..." He doesn't even want to know what they'd say about _his_ influence on her, since he half-suspects that she's become more and more uptight over the years in response to his previous irresponsibility. The woman beside him in the car is a bit of a mystery, one he's finally, after years, beginning to figure out.

He's a little pissed that it took him so long.

"So...what were you like as a teenager? Because I can't imagine you as anything but completely straight laced in college."

Pepper snorts. "Remind me to never tell you about the time I got arrested then, down in Palm Beach during Spring Break my junior year."

"You can't _not_ tell me after teasing me like that, Pepper." He flashes her a quick grin. "Are you going to make me pull this car over?"

"You'd probably not believe me if I did try and explain. I think you have to be a certain amount of drunk to actually find it funny..." He swerves the car toward the margin as if making good on his threat and she squeaks before glaring at him darkly.

"All right Stark, if you must know it involves too much Tequila, a belly dancer and a camel from the local amusement park."

"A camel?" Both his eyebrows raise above the rim of his sunglasses. "Kinky, Pepper."

"You wish." She snorts a little. "It's name was Lazy. I might have sort of, kinda have tried to help abduct her."

"From the belly dancer?" Honest laughter rippled out.

"No the belly dancer helped. She and I had both had way too much Tequila. It was weird actually that we were even friends, since less than a day before when we'd met the first time I actually punched her out." Pepper moans a little. "Can we just forget I mentioned this now? As I said, the story's much funnier when the listener is drunk."

"If you give me something else to think about." He grins at her again, and it occurs to her that she's not sure she's ever seen him smile so much.

So she thinks about it for a moment and asks the most meaningless question she can come up with.

"What's the weirdest thing you know how to do, that probably no one else realizes you can do? Aside from cooking, which in retrospect I suppose sort of makes sense. Man can't live by pizza alone if he wants to keep your muscle tone." She adds the last and watches him preen at the implied compliment.

"I don't know about weirdest, but I definitely think that the fact I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue deserves recognition. Think about the unusual dexterity that requires." His smile turns wolfish.

She rolls her eyes and enjoys the smile on his face, then chews her lip a moment and goes from frivolous to serious in the space of a heartbeat. After all there are some things they're going to have to talk about…

"If you had to pick, Tony, who would you like me to train? Is there somebody specific you'd prefer replace me? Because I have some ideas, but..." She never finishes the sentence.

Tony does pull over then, without the barest hint of warning. Luckily there's been no one following behind them, otherwise poor Casey might have needed some serious reconstructive surgery. She doesn't even have a chance to chew him out before he's holding her shoulders and shaking her a little.

"I hope you mean you need a replacement because you're going to be seriously cutting back your hours so that you can start living like a human being and not just another robot working away at my command." The look on his face is...indescribable. He's scared but mostly he's angry.

She gapes. "What I was referring to Tony, is if I end up needing chemotherapy. Because I'm guessing that I'm not going to feel up to managing your email on the same days I'm puking up my guts."

He shudders and then he's unlatching her seatbelt so that he can pull her close. "That'd _better_ be what you meant," he breathes into her hair. Between them they can both feel his heart pounding and he's shaking more than just a little bit.

'You scared him last night,' she realizes in that moment. She'd thought she'd dispelled most of that damage, but it looks like she barely touched the surface. Which she supposes is reasonable because she'd never tried to put into words most of what had happened in her head. 'No time like the present to try and correct that.' She wraps her arms around him. "Stark, if I have any say in the matter, I'm _not_ going to die."

"Then I have nothing to worry about." His arms tighten momentarily before he loosens his grip enough so that he can pull back and look at her face. "Pepper, you go ahead and hire whoever is going to let you take time off without worrying about work. Hire two people if it comes to that, since you're doing enough work for two. We will do whatever it takes for you to be as comfortable as possible."

"I have no intention of giving up my work in the office entirely. I _like_ my job. And I'll need the focus not to mention the sense of normality." She snorts and runs a hand back through his hair. "This isn't going to be about completely _abandoning_ everything in my old life, Stark. It will just be about finding some kind of balance."

Her eyes grow thoughtful at that point, and she unthinkingly puts a hand on her stomach. "As it turns out my dad and uncle are right. I'm probably more like her than I ever really comprehended."

"You're brooding. I don't like it when you brood." He captures her lips with a quick kiss. "You say and do mysterious and sometimes incomprehensible things when you're brooding." Another quick kiss. "Stop talking about the past. You can't change it. Besides, I'd much rather you focus on the future."

"This is about both: the future and the past. I'm talking about my mom, Tony, and how cyclical our lives are turning out to be."

"You're looking for patterns right now, so of course you can see them." Tony softly pinches Pepper's chin and turns her head so she's looking at him again. "There might be similarities, Pepper, but this is _your_ life."

"Yes, it is," she tells him calmly. "The point is until now I'd forgotten that. My dad's life – and mine by extension – basically _ended_ when my mom died of cancer, Tony." She shrugs. "Everything after she died went numb and lost color; forgive me if I find it ironic that finding out I might have the same disease actually finally woke me back up. I mean she was everything to us – and she had everything to live for. I – I didn't have half as much. There was nothing to _ground_ me..."

"Nothing?" His words are tense and hurt. "I would like to think I counted for something even before this, Pepper."

She shrugs a little. "It wasn't about just about you and what we were or weren't to each other, it was about the way of thinking that I'd let take over my life." She shakes her head. "I mean you called me _impossible._ And I just sat there and _took_ it when I should have beaten your skull in." The wrinkles on his brow smooth a little, and she calms and finishes speaking. "That's over now though. I've got motivation, and I'm going to need it desperately if that test comes back positive. And more importantly I see what I was doing and can change my outlook no matter what happens. I got my life back whether I have cancer or not."

"Motivation?" he asks, like he actually needs to hear her say the words. She rolls her head and confirms the thought emphatically.

"I'm in love and I might be pregnant, Tony. I'm my mom all over again." The smile she gives him could light up a stadium. "I'm my mom except I'm in a world with much better resources and much better technology. I mean, do you realize the sheer amount _work_ that's been done in the field of cancer research since Mom got it? As long as it's not in my blood stream, the survival rates for breast cancer are amazing. They range from 48 to 92 percent."

"Tell me you love me again," he whispers against her cheek as he leans in close. He doesn't want to think numbers or statistics, because this isn't math, this is Pepper. And while he knows she's comforted by the facts, he's not at the point where he's ready to consider them yet.

"I love you, you idiot," she murmurs into the side of his neck. "Now can we get going again? Unless it's escaped your notice, it's hot out here and I really, _really_ want pistachio nut ice cream."

Tony shivers, because she's the first person to say "I love you," to him in more years than he cares to count. Certainly since his parents died. He wonders how long it's been for her, if there'd been boyfriends sprinkled throughout the years who'd said it and meant it. Even if there had been though, they couldn't have meant it as much as he did.

"I love you too, Pepper." She says he's part of her motivation to live for a future. He's pretty sure she has no idea just how very true that statement is when it's turned around. Without Pepper, he probably would have managed to get himself killed years ago.

She grins into the side of his neck again. "Then let's get moving again, Stark. Before we either get hit or arrested for causing this much unnecessary delay in traffic."

"I pulled over," he grumbles, though he does reluctantly let her go. "And it's not as if I can stop anyone if they want to appreciate the magnificence that is your car."

"Ice. Cream," she says yet again. "And if we can find a store that sells them, onion rings." Her stomach growls loudly. She blushes, "Okay maybe we should just go through a couple drive-throughs then go sit on the beach and eat dinner."

"You're telling me I didn't 'satisfy' you earlier with everything you ate at lunch?" He quirks one eyebrow as he carefully pulls back into the flow of traffic.

"I've been nauseous or not particularly hungry for _weeks_, Stark. Now stop picking on me or I'm going to order a pronto pup and make you watch me lick the ketchup off."

That causes him to swerve the car again...this time from a _very_ pleasant mental image, and Pepper smirks as she clutches the passengers door.

"Just so you know Tony, all this back and forth stuff is not encouraging me to ever let you drive my car again."

"Maybe you should stop distracting me then," he shoots back a little tartly.

"Maybe you should learn to multitask." Pepper sounds just as smug as a cat, and looks like one too as she curls her feet up and under her.

Before Tony can think of something appropriately snarky to say in answer, Pepper startles and looks at her lap. Tony's throat closes over as he realizes her cell phone is ringing. He debates pulling over again, but the drive through is just up ahead. So he turns into the parking lot and parks in a spot near the back.

"Hello?" Pepper's voice is clearly strained.

Tony turns off the engine and unbuckles his seat belt so that he can turn in his seat to face her. Her expression is unreadable. He wants to reach over, touch her in some way so that she knows she's not alone…but he's afraid to at the same time. Afraid to distract her, afraid he might weaken her instead of giving her strength, afraid he might actually break her. It's been a long time since he's been in this position, but he remembers that sometimes the cruelest thing that can be done is to offer someone comfort and sympathy when what they need is to remain strong.

So he sits there, silent, watching her every move and waiting for some sign of how to act.

The woman in front of him is listening intently, eyes widely dilated an every muscle taunt. "Yes, I'm...no it's all right, I'm glad you called. I don't care how late it is. Knowing now is certainly better than waiting a whole second night." She shifts the receiver to the other hand, and then chews her bottom lip as the voice on the other hand keeps talking. He wishes he could understand the words but it's too faint to make out clearly. Then her face goes white and she raises a hand to her mouth. "You're absolutely _sure_?" she asks carefully.

The voice starts murmuring again, even more maddening then before.

His hands are clinched into tight fists as he struggles not to reach out, to not pull her into her lap and hold her like he really, really wants to. The only reason he manages is because he doesn't have to endure like this forever, only until she gets off the phone.

"No...I understand. I'll do as you suggest. I....I guess I'll talk to you more when I see you next week." Then she hangs up the phone and inhales on a sharp disbelieving moan.

"Pepper?" Tony can't help how his hand trembles a little as he reaches out and touches her shoulder. "What did your doctor say?"

"Steak." She manages to speak after a moment. "No onion rings. Steak, milk and broccoli. Anything with iron." Then she raises her eyes and looks at him through eyes wet with relief. "Negative for cancer, Tony. Just nutritional anemia and a positive test for the breast cancer gene." He freezes for a moment as his brain takes the new data and swiftly reconfigures pretty much their entire future right there on the spot.

And instead of some indistinct, hazy 'ending' there's years and years of possible togetherness and happiness that fast forward across his brain.

He wants to shout for relief, but Pepper just continues babbling.

"I...the doctor called the pharmacy. I need to take a supplement. They'll know when they check my blood next week if it's working sufficiently..." She shivers, so hard that it shakes her whole body. "I'm a high risk candidate for future breast cancer. They're going to have to watch me carefully for the rest of my life..."

And the words trail off again and she apparently loses what little was functioning in her brain.

"I'll help. With the breast exams, I mean." Just like that Tony has perfect control over himself again...well, except for the grin that's splitting his face from ear to ear.

Pepper just buries her face in her hands again, and then like last night she's weeping. She's crying so hard that she almost can't breathe. "Pepper, Pepper, sshhh, Pepper..." Tony drags her across the front seat so that she's draped across his lap. "Is the thought of spending the rest of your life with me really that bad? I'll still let you hire an assistant. Hell, I insist on it. I don't want to share my wife with my business." He keeps murmuring nonsense into her hair as he awkwardly rocks her back and forth.

After a few minutes she calms enough to wipe her face and nose. "I am such a dork," she acknowledges with a sniff. "I'm fine all day and then when I find out I _don't_ have cancer, that's when I decide to fall apart."

"You've had a stressful few weeks." He smooths her hair back from her face. "I think you're entitled to a few outbursts now and then."

Her stomach rumbles then, loud and ornery. And she's giggling almost as hard as she was crying. "So... Uhm...Yeah. I need a meal high in iron. The doctor said my best choices were broccoli and either rare steak or liver..." She wrinkles her nose. "I _loathe_ liver, Tony. Even the smell makes me sick."

"We'll find you other sources of iron, Pepper." His grin turns wry. "Considering who you're seeing, it shouldn't be too difficult to hire a dietician."

Her stomach growls again. "Later, Stark. Do you think we can find a decent steak around here?"

"Pepper, I'm sure we can find you a steak. We can probably even find a place that'll serve onion rings with it."

She narrows her eyes. "Then let's get _going_. Are you done almost wrecking my car? Or do I have to make you hand over the keys?"

"Com'on, Pepper. Even if I did wreck it, you're talking to one of the few people on earth who could fix it single-handedly."

"It's the _principle_ of it," she informs him archly. "We have plans for this Morgan later." She settles her head against his shoulder. "Assuming you still want to make a stop at that pharmacy."

"Really?" Tony pulls back to look at her with eyes quickly going dark. "You're going to go parking with me then?"

"Down by your beach at the mansion? I don't see why not. We can always go swimming afterwards if we need to cool off." She shrugs, "Though again that's contingent on the procuring of certain supplies...though I'm guessing they're not really even necessary if I've got advance level anemia."

He takes her hand and kisses it. "Mmm... Pepper, I approve your grabbing your new lease on life by the balls, so to speak, but let's not engage in risky behavior here. I think I'd like to have you to myself for awhile before we introduce kids to the mix."

She nods. "Then I suggest we find a steak house. After that I need to stop and pick up the iron supplements the doctor called in anyway. We'll get birth control while we're in the pharmacy." She gestures to the road. "Get a move on, Stark. Time is wasting, and if we aren't driving in ten seconds, I'm taking back my keys."

"You have gotten really demanding since you slept with your boss, Potts. I might have to inform him that you're taking advantage of your new position." Tony reluctantly lets her go and reaches for the keys still dangling in the ignition.

She slides back into the passenger seat chuckling evilly. "Says the man who is driving _my_ classic car..."

"Well I might as well get something out of this before you get me flat on my back in the back seat."

She raises an eyebrow. "Well I was going to offer to treat you to dinner, but if that's your attitude on the situation I guess that I'll just have to eat my onion rings _alone_..."

"Don't be silly. I'll pay for dinner." Tony twists around in the seat and carefully backs up.

"Tony, you're not paying for every meal I eat anymore than you're going to actually convince me to quit my job in order to marry you. I seem to remember earlier saying something about the concept of _balance_. Do we need to revisit the subject?"

"I didn't say that you had to quit your job, just that I don't want to have to pry you away from your work every time I decide on the spur of a moment to spend time with you. If you have an assistant, you're much more likely to agree since you won't be leaving your responsibilities neglected. And I am buying dinner because you're the reason I make so much in the first place." Tony taps her nose. "And you know I'm right about most of the above at least."

She considers this a moment. "A weak argument I suppose. But how about I let you keep talking it up while _I _buy us dinner."

Tony looks over at her. "Fine. You buy dinner, then. But we're driving to Vegas immediately after."

She raises an eyebrow. "Like hell we are. You have meetings with the board for the rest of the week." She pauses. "If you're serious about Vegas, though...well, my weekend is free."

He whips his head around to look at her. "Seriously?"

"Lately I seem to be inclined toward what you referred to as 'risky' behavior." She chews her lower lip, "Though in all fairness, considering the stress of the last few days and the effects of this car, the better question to ask is are _you_ serious."

"Well, not only would it solve the debate about who's paying for dinner," he deadpans as he pulls into the parking lot of an Applebees. "But don't you think we know each other well enough to bypass the engagement phase?"

She shrugs. "I just don't want either of us to regret it when it's too late to change it. Though I suppose the almost day long drive to get there will allow time for our heads to clear." She purses her lips. "One thing's for certain, we'll have to get a prenuptial contract written and signed before we leave. Because it's bad enough with the board not trusting one of us. If I become public enemy number two I'm going to have almost constant headaches preparing for staff meetings."

"Pepper, if this is what you consider risky behavior, consider me unimpressed." He turns off the engine and grabs her arm as she reaches for her door handle. "Will you please give me a moment to be a gentleman?" Before she can reply, he's out of the car and walking around the front to get her door for her.

She allows him to open the door and help her up to her feet. Then she reaches up on her toes to encircle his neck. "I'm the one who's ready to risk no birth control, Mr.. Stark." She kisses his cheek and pulls back, turning to head into the restaurant. "Though I do understand at least in principle, why you're not. I would think that puts me ahead in this event."

He halts her by taking her hand and pulling her back until he's got her trapped between the car and his body. "That sounded almost like an insult, Ms.. Potts. But please, if you're enlightened, share your insight with the rest of the class."

Pepper grins and wraps her arms around him, reaching up to lightly brush her lips with his. "_You_ try having two of you around for the rest of your life."

"I have no problem getting along with myself." He pulls back. "And I'd like the chance to perfect getting along with you before we add three a.m. feedings to the mix."

"I understand," she repeats again. "I'm simply saying that by common standards, I'm the riskier of the two of us." She cranes her neck to look at the restaurant. "Now can we please go_ eat_?"

"Forget getting along with you," he mutters as he lets her go. "I'll settle for _understanding_ you, Pepper Potts."

"Don't set your sights on impossible things, Tony." Her eyes are twinkling as she heads into the restaurant.

"I'm not," he hollers back as he follows her inside.


End file.
